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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24682699">knock your heels together, say a prayer for me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass'>shatteredhourglass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Dom/Sub Play, BDSM, Denial, Dom Bucky Barnes, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Outdated Impressions of BDSM and Kink, POV Steve Rogers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Steve Needs To Chill Out And Forget Bad BDSM Stereotypes, Sub Steve Rogers, Switch Clint Barton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:21:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24682699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is not into the kinky stuff. </p>
<p>Denial is a river in Egypt.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>374</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>knock your heels together, say a prayer for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Mild warning: Steve's got the mindset of a person who's only had vanilla sex their whole life for some of this fic. He learns, but he's definitely a lil weird about it at first.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve Rogers is not into the kinky stuff.</p>
<p>He’s <em>not</em>.</p>
<p>Sure, he’s in a poly relationship, but that’s not BDSM. It’s not <em>kink</em>. He's never been into the idea of domination, or spiked collars or those latex suits that look suffocating as all hell. He's not judging the people who <em>are</em> into it. It's just not for him, the same way red wine or small dogs or movies with sad endings aren't for him.</p>
<p>Not that he's thought about it much. </p>
<p>The kink stuff is more Clint and Bucky's thing, and they're happy doing that. They're actually <em>very</em> happy about it, and Steve spends some of his days trying not to think too hard about all the paraphernalia in the closet. (He’s already made the mistake of thinking the candles weren’t a part of the sex stuff - that was embarrassing enough.)</p>
<p>It's not like he's a prude, whatever Tony accuses him of - it's his fault that Clint is now a fan of semi-public sex, because Bucky's a fairly private person but Steve's impatient. He does other sex things that aren’t missionary position on a bed, he just… doesn’t do the kinky stuff.</p>
<p>And that’s fine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve’s not interested.</p>
<p>“Not out with your boys?”</p>
<p>“Tuesday’s their night together,” Steve tells Sam, who raises an eyebrow curiously. He isn’t interested enough to ask any more questions though, which is a relief because Steve doesn’t know how to tell him that their ‘night together’ is just sex.</p>
<p>Granted, it is sex that’s rough enough that liberal use of aloe vera is needed, but it’s still sex and Steve’s not comfortable discussing that with Sam, who’s just recently introduced him to the term ‘sex-repulsed asexual.’ Anyway, it’s not his place to talk about it.</p>
<p>“I’m meeting up with Misty for Chinese,” Sam says. “You okay to entertain yourself for the night?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Sam. Say hi for me,” Steve replies. It’s not like he’s a wilting flower who will die without proper attention. At least, not for one night. If he really needed company he’d just hunt down Natasha and rope her into cards again.</p>
<p>The door clicks shut and Steve opens his scarcely-used laptop and looks at the blank screen. He doesn’t even have a customized picture for the background. Clint’s is a picture of Lucky, he knows. Bucky’s is a photo he’d taken of Steve and Clint when they hadn’t been paying attention on a mission, Steve looking at something in the distance and Clint crouched with his bow in his hands, looking sharp and dangerous. He clicks on the Google Chrome icon, pauses.</p>
<p>“JARVIS?”</p>
<p>“<em>Yes, Captain Rogers?</em>”</p>
<p>"No one else can see this, right?"</p>
<p>"<em>They can't. I can also clear your browser history immediately afterwards, if you'd like.</em>"</p>
<p>Steve tentatively types <em>bdsm video</em> into the searchbar. It’s - he’s not <em>interested</em>, just a little curious.</p>
<p>He decides a few minutes later that he’s not curious anymore. The women look like they’re having a terrible time, he’s about ninety percent sure half of this is going to cause severe health problems - especially the ropes, that’s not how you tie people up safely - and Steve tries not to be shallow but the men are startlingly unattractive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve’s curiosity remains paused until he accidentally walks into their shared floor on the Tuesday night two weeks later, forgetting what day it is entirely.</p>
<p>He remembers when he gets to the doorway into the living room, stops abruptly as the wet noises reach his ears. Steve’s standing to the side so he’s not directly in eyeview of the people in the room, but <em>he </em>can see what’s going on just fine.</p>
<p>“You’re getting distracted,” Bucky says.</p>
<p>Clint's on his knees on the carpet between Bucky's thighs like he belongs there. Bucky's got his fingers wound in Clint's hair, controlling the pace and tugging Clint down until he's nearly choking on the cock in his mouth. It looks a little painful, honestly, but the look in Clint's eyes is hazy and blissful when he opens them, and he's moaning like he's the one getting a blowjob.</p>
<p>Steve keeps watching. Clint's hair is a little lighter in colour than his own, shorter on the sides for sure. But it gets Steve imagining what it'd be like in his position, what it'd feel like to have Bucky tugging on his hair and guiding him exactly the way Bucky wants him.</p>
<p>It’s… not entirely unpleasant.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Bucky says roughly. "Yeah, that's good, baby, that’s perfect. Needy little slut, aren't you?"</p>
<p>Clint's noises get louder at that, if possible. </p>
<p>It doesn’t look like the stuff he’d seen in the videos. Clint looks <em>into </em>this, hands tucked behind his back without any ropes, dick hard and wet without being touched. Steve feels stuck in place as Bucky yanks Clint back, comes messy all over his parted lips.</p>
<p>“Ask,” Bucky orders.</p>
<p>“Please let me come,” Clint says instantly, swaying into the fingers Bucky brushes against his flushed cheek.</p>
<p>Steve makes a hasty exit.</p>
<p>The hasty exit is impeded by his massive boner, which - it’s just a natural reaction to his boyfriends being naked, that’s all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh hey," Clint says when he notices Steve sitting in the early morning light, comes over and plonks himself down on the sofa. "Morning jog finish early?"</p>
<p>His voice is <em>shredded</em>. </p>
<p>Steve's got no idea how he can still talk without pain. Maybe he <em>is </em>in pain, it’s impossible to tell with him sometimes. There's also a line of red marks trailing down his throat and disappearing under his shirt collar. Still, Clint seems happy enough - there's a bounce in his step, a delighted little smile on his lips. </p>
<p>“Sure,” he answers, although he’s already forgotten what the question was.</p>
<p>Clint sighs and sidles his way closer until Steve takes the hint and wraps an arm around him. He’s wearing one of Bucky’s shirts and it’s slightly too short on him, riding up his stomach. It’s cute, in a way (if Steve wasn’t immediately distracted by the shift of bare skin and muscle.)</p>
<p>Steve squeezes his shoulder gently and Clint makes a strange noise. “You okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Clint says, leans in. “You were just pressing on some bruises.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Steve answers, goes to remove his hand until Clint catches his fingers and puts them back.</p>
<p>“It’s fine, stop worrying. Feels good,” is what Clint says.</p>
<p>Steve’s worried. “Does it?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Clint says absently. “You never got punched in the mouth so good it gets you going, fucked you up in just the right way?”</p>
<p>Steve thinks about when he was smaller, when he’d start fights with anyone that looked sideways at him. Thinks about the hot sting of a split lip, being pushed to his knees in an alleyway, misses it for just a second. He’d forgotten what that was like.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Clint says. “I know you’re not - I’ve gotta go.”</p>
<p>He gets up and disappears a second later, and Steve wonders what the end to that sentence was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re distracted,” Bucky says. “Steve. <em>Steve</em>. For fuck’s sake.”</p>
<p>“I’m listening,” Steve answers.</p>
<p>Bucky leans forward on the desk, fixes him with a sharp stare. It’s one of those looks that hasn’t changed in one hundred years, that expression that says ‘I know exactly when you’re lying because I can read you like a book.’ Steve’s used to it, gives him a blank look back. It doesn’t help his situation because Bucky <em>can </em>read him like a book.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Bucky says. “What was I saying?”</p>
<p>Steve looks around for context clues. There’s a gun on the table and Bucky’s wearing his stealth gear - all black leather and zippers, which isn’t Steve’s thing but he can appreciate the way it clings to Bucky’s arms and chest, and the tight pants don’t hurt.</p>
<p>“You’re… going on a mission,” he says slowly.</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” Bucky says. “Where?”</p>
<p>“Erm-”</p>
<p>“You don’t know,” Bucky replies, waving a hand at him dismissively. “Let’s save the hassle. I’m going on a mission with Natasha for a couple of days, I can’t tell you where we’re going but I’ll send texts every couple of hours to check in, don’t worry about me and I’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“I’m not even allowed to worry anymore? Harsh, Buck. You gotta leave me with something,” Steve says, and Bucky’s lips twitch up into a barely-there smile.</p>
<p>“You’re allowed to worry a <em>little </em>bit,” Bucky replies. “Enough to send nudes and fetch me bagels when I get home. Not enough that you come rocketing after me without a parachute.”</p>
<p>“You’re never gonna let that go, are you,” Steve answers.</p>
<p>“Nope,” Bucky says, stands up and slings a duffel over his shoulder. He walks around the table to drop a brief kiss on Steve’s cheek, and the light scrape of his stubble summons an instant smile on Steve’s lips. “Have fun, don’t be an idiot and stop bullying Sam when you go running. That’s my job.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You busy?”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Steve says, puts his sketchbook aside as Clint straddles his thighs, plonks himself down in Steve’s lap. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>Clint takes a moment to reply, casting an interested look over the page that’s been left open - it’s an absent doodle of Bucky standing by the windows in the Bed-Stuy apartment, gun in one hand and hair falling in loose waves. He’s got a sheet draped over his hip, a slow reveal of the curve of his ass. It’s a good drawing, if Steve says so himself.</p>
<p>“Wanna have sex?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Steve says, because he’s not an idiot. “Let me put the sketchbook somewhere safe?”</p>
<p>“I’ll do you one better,” Clint replies, gently places it on the bedside table. “There. Have you drawn me looking sexy and hot too?”</p>
<p>“I drew you trying to stuff a whole pizza in your mouth,” Steve says honestly.</p>
<p>“You’re an asshole, Captain America,” Clint answers, but he’s smirking when he catches Steve’s jaw and kisses him hard.</p>
<p>Clint is a <em>very </em>confident kisser.</p>
<p>"God, I love your boobs," Clint says in a pleased voice, spreads his long calloused fingers over Steve's pec and squeezes. It should be silly - it <em>is</em> silly, but it's also kind of hot from the smirk on Clint's face, the way he's laser-focused on Steve's chest. His fingertips graze over a nipple teasingly and warmth pools in Steve's stomach.</p>
<p>Then Clint <em>pinches</em> and the gasp is ripped out of him, even as he grabs for Clint's hips, pulls him down close to grind on. The friction is fantastic, the quick escalation out of character but not unwelcome.</p>
<p>"Let me ride your dick," Clint says against his neck before he nips at the skin, just a tiny little sting that doesn’t do anything and still gets Steve's nerves buzzing. </p>
<p>"Yeah," is all he can come up with. "Yeah, please."</p>
<p>Steve straightens up to remove his clothes and instead Clint pushes him down on the bed real slow, slides down the sheets.</p>
<p>Part of Steve’s tempted to push back but he trusts Clint, and his heart’s beating faster at the smooth, predatory ease that Clint’s moving with. Steve vaguely remembers they’d sent him to take out a target earlier this afternoon, which would explain it; he’s still stuck in that headspace. Normally he’s gentler around Steve, softer.</p>
<p>It’s okay. (It’s more than okay.)</p>
<p>“Let me do the work,” Clint says, peels Steve’s shorts off and presses a quick biting kiss to the inside of his thigh right where it’s sensitive. “You just lay there and look pretty for me.”</p>
<p>Steve’s not sure anyone’s called him that before and for some unknown reason he shivers at the word. <em>Pretty</em>. It’s probably just because of Clint’s mouth, tantalizingly close to his dick, that’s all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It feels like he blinks and Clint’s ready, sliding down on his dick slow enough that Steve’s head spins from it.</p>
<p>“That’s it,” Clint says, spreads his hands out on Steve’s chest again. It feels a little possessive and Steve’s skin is hot everywhere he’s being touched, a steady simmer that burns him from the inside out. “Anyone ever told you that you look gorgeous like this? I could just sit here and look at you, Stevie.”</p>
<p>Steve’s hips jerk up without conscious thought and Clint's mouth falls open, a soft <em>ah </em>escaping him. One of his hands shift, gently weave into Steve’s hair - not grabbing, just… petting him, almost. It feels good in a different way, and Steve feels fuzzy on the edges for a second.</p>
<p>“Can I-” Steve starts, feels stupid. Why does he need to ask for permission to touch when they’re literally having sex right now? “Nevermind.”</p>
<p>“Feels good?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Steve answers and it comes out as more of a sigh as Clint grinds down on him. “Feels so good.”</p>
<p>“Yeah it does, pretty boy,” Clint says, the kind of confident that makes him shiver again. “Gonna help me get my fingers wet?”</p>
<p>Clint taps his fingers against Steve's lips and Steve parts his lips easily, sucks until he's got them wet and slick, keeps going even when it's enough. Clint seems on-board with it either way, making a noise in the back of his throat and pushing his fingers deeper. Steve takes it, doesn’t let himself choke. He feels high off it, limbs gone floaty and distant.</p>
<p>Steve doesn’t whine - he <em>doesn’t - </em>when Clint withdraws his fingers, wraps them around his own dick and starts jerking himself off in time with his movements. Clint's weight presses him into the mattress and it feels so <em>good</em>. </p>
<p>"Please," Steve breathes, doesn’t know what he’s asking for.</p>
<p>Clint keeps talking and <em>that’s </em>good. Steve sinks into it, the steady stream of <em>gorgeous </em>and pretty boy that Clint directs towards him, still touching him with one gentle hand, rubbing his thumb over one peaked nipple.</p>
<p>Unlike a lot of people Steve knows (he's unfortunate enough to have overheard the majority of his team mid-orgasm) Clint gets quieter rather than louder when he's about to come, and when the talking peters out into panting breaths Steve’s own lungs stop in his chest.</p>
<p>“What do you want?”</p>
<p>Steve can’t think, he can’t- “-want you to come on me,” and Clint shudders and does exactly that, coming on Steve’s stomach and his chest. It’s so hot that Steve feels like he’s died for a second, but if he was dead it probably wouldn’t feel this good, and he wouldn’t be melting into the mattress.</p>
<p>"Shit," Clint says, slurring slightly as he reaches to pat Steve's cheek. "You are <em>way</em> too good at that, Cap, goddamn."</p>
<p>“Thank you, sir,” Steve answers distantly.</p>
<p>“My pleasure, pretty boy - wait. What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"-got carried away, I was just running my mouth like I always do and I didn't realize he was - I didn't mean to-"</p>
<p>Clint's voice is worried and that should make Steve worried too, but the floaty feeling is blocking off that part of his head that stresses. He feels slow and warm, and despite the worry Clint's still touching him, his head resting on Clint’s lap and it's so good.</p>
<p>Steve rubs his face against Clint's thigh, thinks distantly that if he could purr then he would. He’s not sure how long it’s been - time feels less important than Clint’s fingers brushing absently through his hair.</p>
<p>"It's okay," Bucky answers and he sounds faraway too. "Deep breaths, Clint, alright?"</p>
<p>"Okay," Clint answers. "Okay, sorry. <em>Fuck</em>."</p>
<p>"That's better," Bucky says, and then a hand touches Steve's shoulder. "Hey."</p>
<p>Steve blinks his eyes open - it takes more effort than usual - and there's Bucky, a little concerned-looking but still as breathtaking as he's been for the last hundred years. He smiles briefly when Steve looks at him and it's beautiful, Steve loves him so much. He feels the same way he does on a sunny day when he's spent the whole morning lying in, warm and relaxed and a little dazed. It's nice. He feels nice. </p>
<p>Bucky's still watching him. </p>
<p>"Hi," Steve says. </p>
<p>"Hi," Bucky returns, cards his fingers gently through Steve's hair. "You okay?"</p>
<p>"'m great," Steve manages. "You?"</p>
<p>"I'm okay. You know what's going on?"</p>
<p>"Sure," Steve says, draws out the word so it's far longer than it needs to be. "Makin' Clint feel good."</p>
<p>"He called me <em>sir</em>," Clint says, but he sounds distant. </p>
<p>Bucky gives Steve a considering look but he doesn't seem particularly upset, not like Clint is. "Sir, huh. You hate authority, Rogers, what's the 'sir' for?"</p>
<p>"Dunno," Steve says vaguely. He can’t figure out what all the fuss is about. ”Felt right.”</p>
<p>“But you don’t-” Clint starts, breaks off when Bucky raises an eyebrow in his direction. He returns his attention back to Steve a second later, purses his lips thoughtfully.</p>
<p>"What do you want here, Steve?"</p>
<p>"Want to make you feel good too," Steve says. He thinks again about the time he'd caught Bucky fucking Clint's throat and the way Clint had been <em>into</em> it. It feels like he's in a dream, all honey-sweet and slow. "Please."</p>
<p>"Oh, manners," Bucky notes, all soft and amused. "Very good."</p>
<p>The praise makes his brain light up again, although not unpleasantly. He doesn’t mean to make a noise, doesn’t even realize he’s made one until Bucky’s expression changes. Steve vaguely registers it as startled, then amused.</p>
<p>“You’re in deep, huh. How ‘bout we get you some water and Skittles, and then you take a nap?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve figures out what happened in the morning, when he wakes up at lunchtime and Bucky’s left a book on subspace and healthy dom/sub relationships on the bedside table, along with a handful of the red Skittles - the best ones, which Bucky knows.</p>
<p>Bucky <em>also </em>knows that Steve’s awful at discussing his feelings, which is why the book’s there.</p>
<p>Steve reads enough to understand what happened and then puts the book in the trash and considers taking a mission in Australia. That should be far enough to escape his own humiliation. He’s not into this stuff. He’s <em>not</em>.</p>
<p>The problem is that Steve feels better than he has in years; feels relaxed down to his bones, less like he's going to vibrate out of his skin if he doesn't do something. He doesn't even start a fight with Tony over the new recruits, just tells him to handle it and then wanders off to take a nap when Tony looks confused. </p>
<p>“Icecream?”</p>
<p>“You got anything other than choc mint?”</p>
<p>“Don’t be fussy or you get nothing,” Bucky says to Sam. “Steve?”</p>
<p>“Please,” Steve says.</p>
<p>Then he remembers begging last night, saying <em>please </em>over and over, breathless and drunk on it. His face feels very red right now. Sam’s giving him a weird look. Steve thinks about Bucky fucking his face while Clint murmurs praise into his ear.</p>
<p>“I have to go,” Steve says abruptly.</p>
<p>He fishes the book out the trash.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes him until the next day to notice the distinct lack of dog hair on his belongings and purple suit hung up in the closet, and he realizes it's been months since he's seen so little of Clint. Even on Tuesdays he’ll drape himself over Steve for part of the day, insist they go out or hang out before nightfall.</p>
<p>"Did I... <em>do</em> something?"</p>
<p>Bucky looks up at him from where he’s doing paperwork, frowns. "What? No. What're you going on about?"</p>
<p>"Clint," Steve clarifies, and Bucky sighs.</p>
<p>"Clint's... got issues," is what he finally says, which doesn't clear it up in the slightest. "He's worried the other night crossed boundaries - which it did, but not on <em>purpose </em>- and if he thinks you're going to get seriously angry at him he'll vanish into the wind to avoid the fight."</p>
<p>That doesn't sound like him. "Clint loves fighting with people."</p>
<p>"Not like that," Bucky says. "He ever tell you about his last girlfriend? Jess?"</p>
<p>"I don't think so," Steve replies. "Did something happen?"</p>
<p>"If he didn't tell you, I sure as shit ain't," Bucky says, turning back to his paperwork. "Not my place, and anyway, it'd make you so angry you'd probably march over to her house to yell at her."</p>
<p>Steve sighs, sinks down into a chair. “What do I do?”</p>
<p>“Generally I’d recommend talking about it,” Bucky replies without looking at him. “I know you’re both allergic to it, but this’d go a lot smoother if you decided on a safeword, set boundaries and then told Clint you liked it.”</p>
<p>“Hey! You don’t- how did you-”</p>
<p>“It’s been nearly a century,” Bucky says, turns a page. “I might as well be psychic where you’re concerned.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay,” Steve says, stops pacing in front of the couch. “Okay.”</p>
<p>Then he starts again.</p>
<p>“<em>Steve</em>,” Bucky says.</p>
<p>"Sorry. First of all, I'm not into... whips and chains, and all that," Steve says. </p>
<p>"We're aware," Bucky says dryly. "We got it the first hundred times you told us, and we kept it out of your way. Why d’you think most of our stuff is at Clint’s place and not here?"</p>
<p>Something about that strikes Steve as wrong, stops his pacing completely.</p>
<p>Bucky’s sprawled on the couch, one hand curled around the thigh of a visibly nervous-looking Clint, and Steve feels instantly guilty. Do they think he's... shaming them, or something? <em>Has</em> he made them feel shame for liking the things they do? It's not like he's meant to, but the way Bucky says <em>the first hundred times</em> makes it sound like Steve's been doing that. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I think I got the wrong idea about all of this. I should’ve been better about it.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for the other night, I…” Clint starts, trails off.</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Steve says. “It wasn’t - you didn’t do it on purpose. But I didn’t finish. I'm not into whips and chains, but I liked the other night."</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Steve says, takes Clint’s hand and links their fingers together, fixes him with a look that he hopes gets the point across. “And even if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t matter. This isn’t something we give up on over a little thing like this, alright?”</p>
<p>“Now you sound like you’re proposing,” Bucky says dryly.</p>
<p>“You’d know if I was proposing,” Steve replies.</p>
<p>“So… what now?”</p>
<p>“I’m going to do some reading,” Steve says. “A lot of reading. I think I need to figure some things out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The thought that he’s been judgmental - and in the process made his boyfriends feel bad about things they <em>enjoy </em>- is frankly quite horrifying to Steve, so he learns. He steers clear of the porn and reads blog posts and resources on safe practices instead, and despite the fact his mind recoils from some of the more hardcore things he sees, a lot of it is… not what he expected. It’s nice.</p>
<p>Steve’s reminded of trust exercises in some places, and then he remembers what Bucky’s been through and the fact that he trusts himself enough to handle this stuff with Clint makes him dab at his eyes with the end of his shirt.</p>
<p>They go back to normal, with the exception of Steve trying quizzes in the hopes someone else can figure out what he’s into so he doesn’t have to think too hard about it.</p>
<p>He's (mostly) put it to the back of his mind when Clint walks into the kitchen, opens the fridge door and stares at the contents for a few long minutes, shuts it again. Then he moves to the pantry and does the same thing. </p>
<p>"We're going to get groceries on Thursday," Steve offers. "But do you want me to pick up something now?"</p>
<p>"I'm not hungry," Clint answers vaguely. He opens the fridge again. The light catches on the highlights in his hair, the frown on his lips. </p>
<p>"Okay," Steve says. "Can I help? Do you need something else?"</p>
<p>"I need-" Clint starts, breaks off abruptly. "Don't worry about it."</p>
<p>Steve watches from over his sketchbook as Clint wanders over to the table and taps his fingers against it in an erratic rhythm, then paces off in the direction of the bedrooms. </p>
<p>Steve's hearing is sharp as one of Bucky's knives, so he can tell Clint's opening and closing doors the same way he was doing in the kitchen. The tapping starts up again a few minutes later and Steve's got no clue what that's about or whether he's supposed to intervene. </p>
<p>He doesn't get a choice because Bucky comes home then, and the minute he sits down on the couch Clint reappears and immediately flops himself across Bucky's lap, some kind of a mournful whining noise escaping him. </p>
<p>Bucky doesn't seem particularly startled by it, at least - he rubs his fingers across the tense lines of Clint's back, lifts them when Clint stands up suddenly. He looks like he's about to start pacing again and that's when Bucky says “<em>down</em>” in a hard voice that makes a chill run up Steve’s spine.</p>
<p>Clint drops to his knees so fast it looks painful, but once he’s down there it’s like all the anxious energy melts right out of him.</p>
<p>“Good boy,” Bucky says, cards metal fingers gently through Clint’s hair and then tugs.</p>
<p>Steve watches as Clint’s forcibly moved so his cheek is resting against one denim-covered thigh. Clint’s eyes slide shut and then he lets out a sigh. He’s close enough that Steve can catalogue the way all of his muscles relax, Bucky’s fingers still hooked tight in his hair.</p>
<p>“Stay there,” Bucky says, his gaze flicking to Steve. He raises an eyebrow carefully as if to ask if it’s okay and although Steve’s doubting they’d move far if it wasn’t, he nods anyway.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Clint mumbles without opening his eyes.</p>
<p>“Did I say you could talk?” His voice is amused though, and the sharp tug at Clint’s hair just makes him go even more boneless.</p>
<p>Steve inhales. Exhales. Carefully reaches out one hand to trace down the line of Clint’s jaw, the band-aid on his cheek. The air feels still and filled with his own anxiety to a stifling degree and then Clint’s lips lift in a tiny pleased smile. It’s cute.</p>
<p>They’re okay.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hands and knees, Rogers,” Bucky says shortly. “Ass where I can see it.”</p>
<p>"<em>Oh</em>," he says when Bucky pushes into him, like it's been knocked out of him. He's usually quiet. "Oh."</p>
<p>"I gotcha," Bucky answers, the cold tip of his nose pressed against the back of Steve's neck. "Why don't you tell Clint what you want from him?"</p>
<p>"I," Steve says, can't find any words for it. "Please."</p>
<p>“It’s always the bossy ones, huh,” Clint muses.</p>
<p>Bucky's smooth thrusting makes it harder, sharp shocks of arousal hitting him. He's still making those short, overwhelmed noises, can barely keep his eyes open enough to reach for Clint, tangle their fingers together and squeeze tight.</p>
<p>Clint squeezes back, softer than he expects. Steve’s gaze slides over Clint’s face almost absently and then catches as Bucky shoves into him particularly hard, knocking a gasp out of him. Clint smiles at him but it’s a different kind of smile - kind of soft and indulgent, like he’s seen a puppy. It makes Steve feel even hotter, Jesus, why is it so good?</p>
<p>"I'll stop," Bucky warns, slows down enough that Steve’s hazy brain feels a flicker of panic.</p>
<p>“Let me suck you off,” he says instantly, his mouth working without any input from his head. “Please. Sir.”</p>
<p>“Aw, sweet boy,” Clint murmurs. “Ask that nice, you can have anything you want.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Okay, so maybe Steve’s a little into the kinky stuff, but he’s- oh, what does it matter?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title Song: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0bZyMuz7K0">Turns You On - SYCAMOUR</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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